


Cease Fire

by define_serenity



Category: Dollhouse
Genre: F/M, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-17
Updated: 2009-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 15:10:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3982711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/define_serenity/pseuds/define_serenity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My name is Sarah," her jaw clenches, "Sarah," she repeats, only a breath, a whisper this time. "Not Echo, not Caroline, not... Just, Sarah."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cease Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from _Don't Cry Out_ by Shiny Toy Guns.

_ Sarah _

 

“I am  _not_  nobody,” her voice trembles with firmness, her throat taut and she raises her head just a little higher, hoping that whatever doubts she is currently feeling won’t seep through to the surface.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,  _Caroline_ ,” he tries, his hands still raised while he moves closer slowly,  _very_  slowly, but he can clearly see her hesitating, her head twitching slightly as she takes a breath.

“My name is  _Sarah_ ,” her jaw clenches. “Sarah,” she repeats, only a breath, a whisper this time and now she knows her resolve is visibly melting. “Not  _Echo_ , not  _Caroline_ , not… just,  _Sarah_.”

“Well,  _Sarah_ ,” he repeats quietly, calmly, a soft reassurance that he’s willing to play this game with her, even though for him it is everything but. “My name is Paul. I’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

She doesn’t know how to respond to that; she’s never had anyone talk to her like this before, like a child. Normally she would have called him on it, but there’s something so very familiar about it. “I’m going to reach into my pocket,” Paul says carefully, and takes out a little piece of paper. “This is my card. It has my phone number. You can call me whenever you need me.”

.

__

_ Jenny _

“Agent Ballard.” She turns around with fearful eyes, big and brown, her hands balled into fists by her sides. “You said I could call.”

“Sarah?” his brow arches in question. She’s dressed differently, clean and haughty, like a goody good suburban housewife waiting for husband dearest to arrive.

“No, my name is…  _Jenny_ ,” again a hesitant word, almost sticking to the back of her throat like glue, but somehow she manages to push it past her teeth. “I need your help. I think I’m… I think I’m in trouble.” She puts the tips of her fingers together nervously.

“Come with me.” He extends a hand, very much to his own surprise, but he imagines her taking it, and leading him straight to the Dollhouse. Of course she doesn’t, because he can’t even begin to think about all the things she was made to forget, and the shards she does somehow manage to hold on to. He was happy that he was one of them despite of it.

.

_ Lesley _

“I feel like I should know you,” she tells him, glasses perched on her nose, and she pushes them back up nervously. “I mean, I dialled your number even though I know I never memorized it. It feels like there’s something missing, you know?” She stares at him, ranting, and he doesn’t know what to think. They made her into a scientist this time. “I’ve been dreaming, about things I can’t possibly know. I mean, come on, I’m cooped up in this lab all day, and all night, my subconscious mind shouldn’t be going to places I can’t possibly know, right?”

He doesn’t know what to answer.

“It’s scientifically impossible, even Freud was right about that, even though I’ve always been a bit iffy about him to be honest.” She quickly raises an eyebrow while she just keeps talking, it seems to calm her down, somewhat. “But Jung, he knew what he was talking about it. Am I right? Do I know you? Should I know you? Did something happen that makes this… unreal?”

“Calm down.” He puts his hands on her shoulders and looks her in the eyes, “Yes, you know me. My name is Paul,” he tells her his name, again, he’s lost count of how many times.

“I’m not who they say I am, am I? I mean I’m right,  _right_? Ever since I came here I’ve been having this feeling about being… wrong. My name is not…  _Lesley._ ” 

He’s pleased to hear her say it for a change, even though he also feels sad for her, for feeling this lost.

“Your name is Caroline,” he tells her.

.

__

_ Echo _

“You,  _special agent_  Ballard.” Laurence Dominic looms over him. “Have caused us a lot of trouble. What are we going to do with you?” He leans in and stares him in the eyes, squinting, but when he finds no answer he moves back again.

“I’m bringing this house down around you,” Paul sneers, and licks his lip, bleeding from where Dominic’s fist connected with it. “I don’t care what happens to me, but this is ending. These people will be saved.”

“You and… what army, exactly?” Dominic smiles down at him smugly, and he turns around when he hears the door open behind him. Echo steps in, slowly, calmly, not a care in the world. “With her?” 

“ _Caroline_ ,” Paul breathes, and looks at her, straining to try and break the ropes around his wrists, hands tied firmly behind his back, but they don’t budge.

“Echo.” Dominic leans in again, so close that Paul needs to lean back. He wants to break free, hit the man staring down on him right in the face, grab her and get the hell out of there. But he can’t move.

“Caroline,” a voice sounds from behind Dominic.

“What?” he stands up, turns and looks at the active he knows as Echo, staring right back at him.

“Not just an echo.” She frowns and shakes her head at the same time. “My name is Caroline,” she says firmly, convinced of the statement’s truth as she stares into Paul’s eyes. From the corner of her eye she sees Dominic move closer, but she catches him by the arm and whirls him around, her strength surprising him as well as her.

“You’re hurt,” she tells Paul when she moves to untie him, Dominic out cold on the floor. She puts a hand on Paul’s cheek, but pulls it back again when she realizes she’s done so before.

.

_ Caroline _

“Here,” he hands her a hot cup of coffee, a latté, her favourite she tells him, always had been; it had pretty much gotten her through college. “Any luck?”

“No,” she answers, and takes the coffee from him with a smile. “He might not even be in there.” She stares out of the window again, at the restaurant they’ve been staking out for the better part of the night. The big boss might be right inside. When he had said that he would bring this house down, he never could have hoped for her help as well.

A man approaches them from across the street, knocks on the window, and Paul slowly winds it down. It’s Logan, previously known at  _Viktor_. “Look, you guys, he’s not in there, and the place is closing up.” He looks directly at Caroline, because he feels he knows her better, even though he trusts Paul too.

“We’ll come back tomorrow,” she answers, knowing that this is the best lead they've had in six months. “Go home, Logan, we’ll see you.” She smiles, and the other man takes off in the direction of his car.

“Home?” Paul asks as he starts the car, and turns the palm of his hand up.

“Home,” she smiles, intertwining their fingers. 

 

 

** \- fin -  **

 


End file.
